


Adjusting

by JaneDavitt



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Tag, Friendship, Homecoming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-24
Updated: 2010-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-08 07:13:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneDavitt/pseuds/JaneDavitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Homecoming 7.2. Daniel's back in his office, but something isn't quite right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adjusting

Daniel stared around his office playing 'What's wrong with this picture?' It took a little while -- longer than it should, but, hey, he'd just saved a planet and come back from the dead and there had to be a third impossible something in there somewhere. Finally he reached down and adjusted his chair a crucial inch or two.

Better.

Tilt.

Yes.

The second glance around from the proper viewpoint still left him frowning. His books... what the hell had Jonas done to them?

Daniel walked over to one shelf and felt his lips tighten. He had his own method of filing them. Jack had found out by accident that it wasn't strictly alphabetical and it'd driven him mad trying to work it out one day -- about as long as his attention span lasted for something non-military -- popping his head around the door at intervals with increasingly desperate suggestions ("Size? Big to little? Noooo. Okay, colour? Nope, look, red mixed in with the blue ones... Got it; publisher!" "Of a _papyrus_?")

Jonas had taken Daniel's system under his wing and it had become an ugly duckling. Daniel hesitated, one hand already reaching out to start the reorganisation. He let his hand drop back.

Not tonight.

Too tired.

Tomorrow.

He sank back in his chair and pulled open a desk drawer, wondering idly how much it would cost to send Jonas any stray belongings via the Stargate; a million bucks? Less? More? How much did it cost to open the 'gate anyway?

Feeling vaguely curious but not enough to fool himself that he'd ever make a push to find out, he scanned dusty emptiness and then moved down to the middle drawer, the one that always stuck unless -- the memory rose and slotted itself neatly into place -- you pushed down, yanked sideways, and what the _hell_....

Jack appeared in the doorway. "Daniel?"

"What?" He spun around, feeling the flush on his face and trying to wipe away the snarl.

"What are you doing?"

Daniel glanced down at the drawer he was holding. "Uh..."

"And was that swearing? And cursing? And did you kick something?"

"Yes, yes, and this fucking desk."

Jack walked over and perched on the edge of the abused desk, reaching out to take the drawer from Daniel's unresisting hands and putting it down beside him. "And again with the cursing. Are you sure you're our Doctor Jackson?"

Too much. Daniel felt his mouth work and his eyes fill with angry, furious, helpless tears.

"You let him in here. In my room."

No guilt in Jack's eyes, no sorrow. "He moved in. No one stopped him. There's a difference. You weren't--"

"I wasn't _here_."

"I know."

"You let him sit... and touch... and he ... my books..."

Jack's gaze didn't leave Daniel's face. "Didn't colour in the pictures, did he? Because I can take a team through the 'gate to kick his ass if you like."

Daniel shook his head, sucking in a breath and the unshed tears. "No. No. Sorry. Shouldn't make you -- I _like_ Jonas."

"No, you don't." Jack's voice was level and calm. "You don't even know him. Not really. He's okay, though. Not really worth getting worked up over." Jack glanced around after damning Jonas as satisfactorily as Daniel could have wished. "Place looks pretty much the same to me. And what's with the drawer, anyway?"

"He fixed it." Daniel's voice broke. "That drawer's stuck all the time I've been here and he --"

"I did that."

"What?"

"Your drawer. Me." Jack spread his arms wide. "Go on; take a swing. Trained reflexes will probably kick in and make me defend myself but I'll try not to hurt you."

"How could you fix anything? How did you even know it needed it?"

"Seen you wrestle with it how many times?" Jack shrugged. "After... one day I just decided to see what the hell was the matter with it."

"And?"

Jack dug in his pocket and pulled out a handful of change. He separated out a coin and flicked it up so that it spun in a lazy glitter. "Dime. Stuck, right at the back, all dusty. Simple fix." He tossed the coin at Daniel who dropped it. "Okay, now?"

"Mmm." Daniel nodded, staring down at the coin.

Jack nodded back and walked to the door.

"Jack?"

"Yes?"

"Is that the actual dime?" Daniel poked at it with his toe.

"Nope. Just a regular one. What; you think I kept it?"

"No, of course not."

"A dime's a dime, Daniel."

"Of course it is."

Of course it was.

Fuck.

Jack vanished but came back before Daniel could work up the energy to replace the drawer.

"Daniel?"

"Yes?"

"You're not a dime."

Daniel looked at him framed in the doorway, warm, anxious eyes, hair a little greyer, smile a little slower to appear. Just Jack.

"I know that."

"And I know that you know it!" Jack's voice turned hearty. "Just wanted to make sure that you, ah..."

"I get it."

"Of course you do." Jack's smile became the pained grimace he gave when he was totally out of his depth. "Night, Daniel."

"Goodnight, Jack."

Jack left and Daniel replaced the drawer and picked up a book. Under Jonas' system it would go.... there. Third shelf up, over to the right.

Daniel walked to the lowest shelf and put the book at the end of it, leaning against the second book in a trilogy,

They were his books.

He knew where they were, wherever they were.

They got pulled out, read, and filed at the end of the shelf.

Always.


End file.
